TRANSCRIBED FROM THE MODERN NEWS JULY 5, 1918 P. 6
On Active Service with the American Expeditionary Forces in France,
Some Time in May.
W. P. Beard. Cherry Valley, Ark.:
Dear Father and Family:
As I have not heard from home in a long, long time, I will try to write a few lines to tell you that I am still alive and to ask how all are at home. It seems that I am still alive and to ask how all are at home. It seems that there must be something wrong or I would hear more. It has been a long time since I have had a letter and have just about come to the conclusion, that you think that I would not like to get one. But I suppose that is not all your fault, for the last letter I had was months old. Had it occured to you that it is just seven days now untill I will have been in one whole years service in the good old U. S. Army. And during that time the letters I have from home, could be counted on the fingures of your two hands, if you raised and counted them twice. Then you would have some to allow for I have from others. Well I have been on the move almost continuously since I have arrived in France and it has been a hard matter for the mail to follow.
I have been in the hospital since the middle of Jan. with a small wound that I go upon the front, and now the doctor says that I may be transfered to the unit I am in at present, will not be very sorry either, for that happens to be the branch of service I asked to be placed in when I enlisted, but for some reason or other (I don't know why) I was shipped into the infantry, am glad now for I have had the chance of being in the front line trenches three times now and--Well I may see them again. Will not see my own company again though, for I understand that only a few are left. And what few are left, in all probability are all split up and in different parts of the country.
Anyway I will have a few things to tell if I ever get back to the old U. S. If you ever get to the front and get back safe nearly every time you will say to yourself "Well since I was there I figure that I can go again and have my one or two chances in a hundred of not being hit, have met French, English, Canadian, and soldiers from several of their provinces and most were old trench warriors. All say they took numerous chances and got away with them all but slight wounds, so one begins to feel that it is not bad at all. That was before we went to the front last year though.
You will recall the big write up that all the newspapers had about the Amex. troops being shot up their first trip to the trenches. Well that was a company in the same outfit I was in at the time and I knew several of the boys in it. None that I was acquainted with more than passing however were killed. They had harder luck, poor fellows than we did. but they were proud of it and we were sorry it was not our Company. One of the men is in a hospital now and I see him often, (the fact is I am waiting on him though I am still a patient) He was not hurt in that raid but a short time after I was.
Well it makes a fellow feel quite shaky when he goes up his first time, things are usually quiet for the first hour or two then the first thing you know--boom, way in the distance over over there on the other side you hear a deep rumble as if the earth had been hit by some Goliaeh's club, a few seconds later zizz-zizz splew w- w--w Baboom-m-m. This is not a code of any kind but just an explanation of how the report of a six inch gun sounds when fired from the other side. Well way over in that low place back of our trenches you see a great spout of dirt may be a few pieces of deserted dugout, go up in the air twenty or thirty feet. Another is fired and may be it hits in the same place. Huh they are no sports at all, you are disgusted, trench life is not exciting at all. Listen! Hear that deep boom? Wait a second: Hear it comes, Oh! there went the bean kettle off the kitchen range. Was the cook or the K.P. hurt? Here comes the Co. Orderlie. Hey orderlie was any body hurt? No. My! that's good, but it was a narrow escape. Hush, there comes another; Duck quick, Oh! It hit the orderly, quick now, you go for a doctor; hey private get a stretcher Hurry, All you men that are not needed get in your dugouts and stay there. A few minutes later and things are quiet. Fellows are wondering if the boy was hurt bad. Well, he was the first one in our Co. to be hit. Was it his fault? No. He was on duty. He was on duty. You hear on all sides the question. Eight or ten shells have fallen close to us. Alls well till late in the evening It's dark in the dugout and you light a lucifer to look at your watch. Three hours have passed since you came and you begin to think yourself an old trench warrior and trench life is not bad at all. Hooray! You are told to be quiet. The enemy can hear.You are below the ground and sound travels, they know by the change from absolute quite to jolly laughs and merry talking that the Amex. boys took over the sector. Well we go right out on our post in the trench. A little place is chiped away on the side so as to make a nice bench, and that is covered with a little piece of sheet iron flooring that is covered with grass and brush so it can't be seen. It is pitch dark. An auto rifle is a few yards up on your left, another on your right and one in front, posts are taken out in front a few yards further (listening posts) machine guns are numerous in the rear. Your old reliable 3 inch field artillery is a short distance back in that old field. Under what remains of an old stone is the Art. Com. Dugout. Heavier guns back these up. You feel safe absolutely in all these respects. Our boys are confient. We have plenty of ammunition and we know there is planty where that came from and they are making more.
You begin to wonder what the boches are doing. Do they have to stand in mud half up to their knees as you are doing? Is it true that they are wearing the clothing taken from their dead comradesj Down! there goes a flare way up in the air, g-z-z-zst-pop. All is clear as day. You thind that you could see a needle overthere. Pop,and a bullet rings through the air. Some of our boys have strained their eyes a little hard and all the entanglement posts are marching over. He thinks they are Germans. Pop-pop-pop-pop, another flare; Down! Now raise your head just so you can see over the parapet as the light goes out. Pz-zing, zing-pop, it is like a pistol shot as the bullet from over there burries itself behind you, just above your head. You shoot to draw fire from him so you can see the flare of his gun. Bang! goes your piece into the air. A few seconds later-- tack! tack! tack! zing-g-g! Tack-tack, about a dozen times bullets whiz over your head. You see a little flash over there. Load, aim, steady now, fire! Did it hurt him? a long wait. No more firing from that quarter. You wake the man in the little dugout in the side of the trench who keeps vigil over you one hour while you sleep and then trusts his life to you the next while he sleeps. Hey! Soldier Pal! wake up, I got my first boche just now. He asks how you did it, he tries to send you in so he will have a chance and you wont go, so the post is held up by the two of you for the rest of the night. Morning comes in and you go in and have breakfast, clean up your gun and go to bed and sleep till noon. Get up, have lunch, watch a few zero battles, go back to bed and just before good dark up again. May be you are sent back on the same post or may be on scout patrol or other duty. One night I had to go out and help to repair barbed wire that had been shot away the day before. Believe me, you sure do feel shaky then. Most of the work is done standing and when they spot you once they don't let you alone until you get back and the dirty rascals follow you in nearly to your trench and then a young battle takes place.
Auto trench mortors, hand and rifle grenades and a few seventy-fives can be heard on all sides, but you stand your ground. All of the boys are level headed.
Well, dad, there is a lot that I could tell you of what I have seen, but this will give you an idea and if this gets through you will know as much as any of us how the thing is going. It looks like a game of tag, but the Sammies are over here to start a new game and its new to us too, but with the help of God, and courage and ammunition, and the folks back home, we'll beat the game.
With all love and love to all,
Your son affectionately,
John K. Beard.
Co. L. 16th Inf., Care U. S. A. Hospital No. 9,
American Expeditionary Forces, France
NOTES:
TRANSCRIBED BY LAEL HARROD
On Active Service with the American Expeditionary Forces in France,
Some Time in May.
W. P. Beard. Cherry Valley, Ark.:
Dear Father and Family:
As I have not heard from home in a long, long time, I will try to write a few lines to tell you that I am still alive and to ask how all are at home. It seems that I am still alive and to ask how all are at home. It seems that there must be something wrong or I would hear more. It has been a long time since I have had a letter and have just about come to the conclusion, that you think that I would not like to get one. But I suppose that is not all your fault, for the last letter I had was months old. Had it occured to you that it is just seven days now untill I will have been in one whole years service in the good old U. S. Army. And during that time the letters I have from home, could be counted on the fingures of your two hands, if you raised and counted them twice. Then you would have some to allow for I have from others. Well I have been on the move almost continuously since I have arrived in France and it has been a hard matter for the mail to follow.
I have been in the hospital since the middle of Jan. with a small wound that I go upon the front, and now the doctor says that I may be transfered to the unit I am in at present, will not be very sorry either, for that happens to be the branch of service I asked to be placed in when I enlisted, but for some reason or other (I don't know why) I was shipped into the infantry, am glad now for I have had the chance of being in the front line trenches three times now and--Well I may see them again. Will not see my own company again though, for I understand that only a few are left. And what few are left, in all probability are all split up and in different parts of the country.
Anyway I will have a few things to tell if I ever get back to the old U. S. If you ever get to the front and get back safe nearly every time you will say to yourself "Well since I was there I figure that I can go again and have my one or two chances in a hundred of not being hit, have met French, English, Canadian, and soldiers from several of their provinces and most were old trench warriors. All say they took numerous chances and got away with them all but slight wounds, so one begins to feel that it is not bad at all. That was before we went to the front last year though.
You will recall the big write up that all the newspapers had about the Amex. troops being shot up their first trip to the trenches. Well that was a company in the same outfit I was in at the time and I knew several of the boys in it. None that I was acquainted with more than passing however were killed. They had harder luck, poor fellows than we did. but they were proud of it and we were sorry it was not our Company. One of the men is in a hospital now and I see him often, (the fact is I am waiting on him though I am still a patient) He was not hurt in that raid but a short time after I was.
Well it makes a fellow feel quite shaky when he goes up his first time, things are usually quiet for the first hour or two then the first thing you know--boom, way in the distance over over there on the other side you hear a deep rumble as if the earth had been hit by some Goliaeh's club, a few seconds later zizz-zizz splew w- w--w Baboom-m-m. This is not a code of any kind but just an explanation of how the report of a six inch gun sounds when fired from the other side. Well way over in that low place back of our trenches you see a great spout of dirt may be a few pieces of deserted dugout, go up in the air twenty or thirty feet. Another is fired and may be it hits in the same place. Huh they are no sports at all, you are disgusted, trench life is not exciting at all. Listen! Hear that deep boom? Wait a second: Hear it comes, Oh! there went the bean kettle off the kitchen range. Was the cook or the K.P. hurt? Here comes the Co. Orderlie. Hey orderlie was any body hurt? No. My! that's good, but it was a narrow escape. Hush, there comes another; Duck quick, Oh! It hit the orderly, quick now, you go for a doctor; hey private get a stretcher Hurry, All you men that are not needed get in your dugouts and stay there. A few minutes later and things are quiet. Fellows are wondering if the boy was hurt bad. Well, he was the first one in our Co. to be hit. Was it his fault? No. He was on duty. He was on duty. You hear on all sides the question. Eight or ten shells have fallen close to us. Alls well till late in the evening It's dark in the dugout and you light a lucifer to look at your watch. Three hours have passed since you came and you begin to think yourself an old trench warrior and trench life is not bad at all. Hooray! You are told to be quiet. The enemy can hear.You are below the ground and sound travels, they know by the change from absolute quite to jolly laughs and merry talking that the Amex. boys took over the sector. Well we go right out on our post in the trench. A little place is chiped away on the side so as to make a nice bench, and that is covered with a little piece of sheet iron flooring that is covered with grass and brush so it can't be seen. It is pitch dark. An auto rifle is a few yards up on your left, another on your right and one in front, posts are taken out in front a few yards further (listening posts) machine guns are numerous in the rear. Your old reliable 3 inch field artillery is a short distance back in that old field. Under what remains of an old stone is the Art. Com. Dugout. Heavier guns back these up. You feel safe absolutely in all these respects. Our boys are confient. We have plenty of ammunition and we know there is planty where that came from and they are making more.
You begin to wonder what the boches are doing. Do they have to stand in mud half up to their knees as you are doing? Is it true that they are wearing the clothing taken from their dead comradesj Down! there goes a flare way up in the air, g-z-z-zst-pop. All is clear as day. You thind that you could see a needle overthere. Pop,and a bullet rings through the air. Some of our boys have strained their eyes a little hard and all the entanglement posts are marching over. He thinks they are Germans. Pop-pop-pop-pop, another flare; Down! Now raise your head just so you can see over the parapet as the light goes out. Pz-zing, zing-pop, it is like a pistol shot as the bullet from over there burries itself behind you, just above your head. You shoot to draw fire from him so you can see the flare of his gun. Bang! goes your piece into the air. A few seconds later-- tack! tack! tack! zing-g-g! Tack-tack, about a dozen times bullets whiz over your head. You see a little flash over there. Load, aim, steady now, fire! Did it hurt him? a long wait. No more firing from that quarter. You wake the man in the little dugout in the side of the trench who keeps vigil over you one hour while you sleep and then trusts his life to you the next while he sleeps. Hey! Soldier Pal! wake up, I got my first boche just now. He asks how you did it, he tries to send you in so he will have a chance and you wont go, so the post is held up by the two of you for the rest of the night. Morning comes in and you go in and have breakfast, clean up your gun and go to bed and sleep till noon. Get up, have lunch, watch a few zero battles, go back to bed and just before good dark up again. May be you are sent back on the same post or may be on scout patrol or other duty. One night I had to go out and help to repair barbed wire that had been shot away the day before. Believe me, you sure do feel shaky then. Most of the work is done standing and when they spot you once they don't let you alone until you get back and the dirty rascals follow you in nearly to your trench and then a young battle takes place.
Auto trench mortors, hand and rifle grenades and a few seventy-fives can be heard on all sides, but you stand your ground. All of the boys are level headed.
Well, dad, there is a lot that I could tell you of what I have seen, but this will give you an idea and if this gets through you will know as much as any of us how the thing is going. It looks like a game of tag, but the Sammies are over here to start a new game and its new to us too, but with the help of God, and courage and ammunition, and the folks back home, we'll beat the game.
With all love and love to all,
Your son affectionately,
John K. Beard.
Co. L. 16th Inf., Care U. S. A. Hospital No. 9,
American Expeditionary Forces, France
NOTES:
TRANSCRIBED BY LAEL HARROD